


Embers

by Naina



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF
Genre: Gen, Pre-Slash, inspired by foliage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 19:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9198695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naina/pseuds/Naina
Summary: Richard, James, some leaves, and autumnal colors.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marginaliana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginaliana/gifts).



> The first half of this was written for Marginaliana in honor of her birthday. I knew it wasn't complete, but the second half didn't come to me until this morning. Thus, I am posting the whole thing as-is. It hasn't been beta-read or Brit-picked. There may be more, but I can't promise anything.
> 
> Also, it's kind of weird to write about these two and not put it under the Top Gear (UK) fandom.

When James arrives at the new offices, Richard is on the couch, frowning in concentration at his laptop. The hand not occupied with the machine’s touchpad is braced on his knee, fiddling with something, or possibly things.

“What are you up to?”

“Hm?” He looks up as James drops into the armchair. “Ah, doing a bit of research. S’all.”

“For work?”

“No. Just...curiosity.” God’s teeth, Richard is a rotten liar. Forget his panto face, he can’t squash interest to save his hide. Disguise disinterest, maybe, but that enthusiam just bleeds right through.

James bites his inner cheek to keep from smirking and tips his chin toward Richard’s restless hand. “What’ve you got, then?”

“Some leaves.” He lifts his hand, palm up, to show three slightly crumpled leaves. “I was looking up what kind of trees they’re from.”

“Oh. That’s a Japanese Maple, the pointy one.” It’s a deep red, tinged almost bronze on the edges of its six points (or whatever they’re called).

“You don’t know the Latin name? James, I’m shocked.” Richard’s tone is mocking but fond, as usual, but there’s a hint of pink on his cheeks, and he doesn’t quite meet James’ eyes.

“Fagus sylvatica.”

“What?”

“Fagus sylvatica,” James repeats, holding up his phone. “Copper beech, the auburnish oval one.”

“Ah. Um, thanks.” 

James gets up then to fix himself a cuppa; when he comes back, the leaves are gone and the laptop's lid is shut. “Out for a ramble with the dogs on the weekend?”

“Yeah, we went to Westonbirt Sunday,” Richard says, almost absently. “The trees looked like they were on fire.”

James hums into his mug. It’s been years since he last visited an arboretum, but he can easily picture the flame-like colors his mate had seen. “So those trees were your favorites, then? The leaves you saved.”

The skin around Richard’s beard turns pink again. “Er, no. I just really liked their colors.”

Jeremy strides in at that moment, sans greeting as usual. “The colors, hm? The shade your face is now, Hammond, I'd think it was more like you and the missus had a romp in some hidden thicket.”

“You've clearly never had a romp in a forest, Jezza. He'd still be picking bits of leaves out of his beard if that were the case.”

“Which it is not,” Hammond states, though his cheeks are bright pink. “Let’s talk about driving an MX-5 through Morocco now, shall we?” 

The subject of Hammond’s leaf collection is dropped for the rest of the day. James doesn't think about it again, or at least not until late that afternoon, when he gets a text from Hammond while making his way down to the car park. ‘ _You wanted to know why those leaves?_ ’

‘ _Did they fall out of your hair? Don't want to know if they were lodged in anyone's bits._ ’

The reply arrives as he's opening the BMW’s door. ‘ _They’re the color your hair was before you went gray._ ’

James jerks back in shock, turning in place to scan the other cars nearby. He types out ‘ _What? Are you still here?_ ’ when he doesn't spot the Fiesta Richard’s been testing.

‘ _Yes, but don't wait up. Can’t say more than that's the reason._ ’

He blows out a breath and gets into the car. ‘ _Now or ever?_ ’

‘ _Yet._ ’

Christ, the BMW feels cavernous at the moment. ‘ _Not fair, Richard._ ’

A car several rows off to his left beeps, and there's his colleague, looking more uncertain than James has seen in years. Their eyes meet briefly before Richard slips into the Ford.

‘ _I'm sorry. Not ready to talk about it._ ’ The Fiesta reverses out of its space moments later.

Deeply confused but unwilling to push, James types ‘ _okay_.’ He hesitates, adds ‘ _take care_ ’ and taps send.


End file.
